


okay, so I'm the dragon. big deal

by cupsofstardust



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, F/M, Jealousy, M/M, Male My Unit | Byleth, Minor Ferdinand von Aegir/Dorothea Arnault, Minor Ferdinand von Aegir/Marianne von Edmund, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27386497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupsofstardust/pseuds/cupsofstardust
Summary: It's been written before. The hero saves the princess, the dragon is vanquished, and everyone else lives happily ever after. The end.It's normal.It isn't normal for the dragon to fall in love with the hero. It isn't normal for the hero to die at the end.
Relationships: Bernadetta von Varley & Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	okay, so I'm the dragon. big deal

**Author's Note:**

> I just really like Ferdinand von Aegir <3 Channeling my inner Hubert with this one.

Hubert hates Marianne.

Not because she's horrible, or because she has wronged Lady Edelgard. Honestly, he doesn't think she could offend even if she wanted to. Marianne has done nothing wrong, save captivating Ferdinand. 

Hubert hates her, but he's sure she's lovely. She must be, to have so completely won him over, to have wrapped him so tightly around her littlest finger.

She smiles around him, more than she ever has, and he positively glows, though he always does that, and Hubert cannot stand it. 

He's in the middle of one of the professor's accursed tea parties when Ferdinand shows up, shining like the sun itself. Dread claws its way into Hubert's throat. 

"Ah! Marianne, I have found us a table!" he announces. 

Marianne rounds the corner as he notices Hubert, and Ferdinand's face changes. It always does. It's not like Hubert can blame him, really. He knows what he looks like; it keeps people away, keeps them wary, keeps Lady Edelgard safe, because if people are naturally afraid of him, they will not mess with those he protects.

He doesn't remember when he stopped wanting to keep Ferdinand away.

"Perhaps there is another," Ferdinand is saying to a confused Marianne. 

"We've already looked in the other courtyards, Ferdinand. Is there something wrong with this table?" she asks quietly, her brows knitted.

"No! Nothing! I am just..." He hesitates, glancing over at Hubert again in a way that is so lacking in subtlety that Hubert feels a flare of annoyance, and he sets down his cup with a loud clatter.

"The professor and I were just finishing up anyway, were we not?" He eyes the professor pointedly, and the professor gazes back, unblinking and blank.

"We were," he agrees. "Thank you for joining me, Hubert." Without preamble, he stands, collecting the tray of pastries, his teapot, and their cups, and he says, "Don't forget about our training session next week."

Before Hubert can respond, he's breezing past Ferdinand and Marianne, his coat flaring around him. Hubert stands as well, wordlessly sidestepping Ferdinand on his way out. He starts towards the dorms, intending to get in a bit of studying before the next exam, but he finds himself knocking on the door of someone else's room.

He doesn't realize it's Bernadetta's until she lets out a squeak on the other side of the door.

"Who—who is it?"

He blinks, realizing what it is he's done, and starts to turn on his heel, chastising himself for not paying attention, when the lock clicks behind him and the door creaks open. 

"Hubert?!" Bernadetta yelps. "What—what are you doing here? Oh, Goddess, you're here to kill me aren't you? Because of what happened during our last mission, because I can't do anything right and you had to come save me and—"

"Bernadetta," he interjects calmly. She shuts right up, spine rigid and eyes wide with fear. "I am not here to kill you. To be honest, I... I don't know why I'm here. I suppose..." He sighs. What's the point in pretending? "I wanted someone to talk to, but I realize it would be no use. Have a good night."

She doesn't respond for a long moment. He's down the stairs and halfway across the grass when she opens the door a little more and says, "You—the first person you thought of was me?"

Hubert stops. "Is that so strange?"

"Well, I... I don't know, I just thought..."

"What?"

"I guess I just thought that you hated me, because you're always saving me because I'm no good in battle and I can't do anything right—"

Hubert could laugh. He doesn't. He does turn around, though. "You thought I was saving you because I hated you?"

She puffs her cheeks out. "It sounds stupid when you put it like that."

"It is stupid," he agrees.

"You're mean." She frowns, but then her expression grows curious. "What did you want to talk about? Maybe I can help...? I'm a good listener, I think."

He opens his mouth, then swallows the words on the tip of his tongue. "Nothing. I'm fine."

He leaves before Bernadetta can ask any more questions. The last thing he needs is someone finding out about this... this _stupid_ feeling. He curses Ferdinand under his breath.

* * *

Hubert _hates_ Marianne.

It's the night of the ball. Lady Edelgard took to the floor what seems like hours ago, and she hasn't had a chance to rest yet. Still, she seems happy.

Hubert is not.

Ferdinand has finally managed to drag Marianne onto the floor, and he is forced to watch from the sidelines as he twirls her and pulls her close, as her face lights up, as his hair falls in his face, curling in the humidity, and as he smiles at her, radiant and warm.

And maybe it's juvenile to hate Marianne—hell, he _knows_ it's juvenile—and it's the last thing he should be worrying about as the next head of House Vestra, but when Ferdinand is so happy it stings just a little to know that he is not the cause of his smile. That he never will be. No one has ever smiled because of Hubert von Vestra.

He hates this. More than anything, he hates this. When did he become so pathetic, so sniveling? What does it matter that he will never make Ferdinand smile the way Marianne does? What does it matter that he will never share a dance with him? What does it _matter?_

All that matters is the future. 

But a future without Ferdinand...

He needs to get out of here. It's too hot, and clearly he isn't thinking straight. Fresh air will help, he just needs to get outside before—

"Hubert?!" Bernadetta jumps, hiding the lower half of her face behind her hands. "I didn't—I can leave, I'm sorry, it seems like you want to be alone maybe so I won't—"

"It's fine," he mutters, letting the door close behind him and joining her on the balcony. It's a little too small for both of them, but he finds he doesn't really care.

"Oh, um, I—I guess," she stammers. She glances back through the frosted glass, then up at him, almost nervously. "Um. What are you doing out here? I mean, isn't Edel—um! Lady Edelgard still dancing?"

"I assume so. She can handle herself just fine for a few moments."

"Oh..." She lowers her hands, finally, only to twitch them anxiously at her sides. "Are... are you alright?"

He snaps his gaze to her. "Why? What did you hear?"

She covers her face with her hands. "Ah! Nothing, I didn't hear anything, I don't even _have_ ears!"

He relaxes incrementally, leaning to rest his elbows on the wall and letting out a sigh. "I... Apologies. I am just..."

Bernadetta peeks at him through her fingers. "Just...?"

"Frustrated. At my own shortcomings. I don't know what is wrong with me." He drops his head, staring at the ground far below. "I am distracted, which will only hurt Lady Edelgard in the long run."

She lowers her hands a little, curiosity winning out over her fear. "Distracted by what?"

He shakes his head. To his surprise—and chagrin—he feels heat rising to his face.

"Are you _blushing?"_

He shoots her a glare that has her yelping and jumping backwards, though she recovers quickly enough when she sees that, yes, he _is_ blushing. Curse his pale complexion. Curse Ferdinand von Aegir.

"You are! Oh, wow, I never thought—I mean, I didn't even think you _could_ blush, but you _can!"_ She laughs in disbelief, then gasps, her eyes going round. "Who is it?"

Hubert scowls. "What?"

"Who made you do... _that?"_ She gestures to his face.

"It is none of your business," he bites back, but his face heats even more, and though Bernadetta's hands still shake a little, it would seem that he's not nearly as scary when his face is bright red.

"Curse you, Ferdinand," he grumbles under his breath, and Bernadetta gasps.

 _"Ferdinand?"_ Her eyes look like dinner plates. "You—do you have a _cr—"_

He presses his hand over her mouth, glancing over his shoulder. "Don't go announcing it to the entire monastery," he hisses. 

She nods, her eyes still wide, although now there's a touch of fear in them. He drops his hand and sighs. 

"Yes," he admits reluctantly. "It is Ferdinand." He pauses for a long moment, then glances at her. "I don't know why I'm trusting you with this."

She shakes her head, seemingly at as much of a loss as he is. "I don't know either. But... thank you."

He furrows his brow. "For what?"

She shrugs, her shoulders up by her ears when she replies, "For trusting me? It's... nice." Then she settles in beside him, pressed shoulder to arm, and she says, "So."

"So," Hubert agrees. For how small she is, she packs a lot of heat. He didn't realize how cold he was until she pressed up against him.

"So," she says again, this time slowly and sing-songy. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Hubert side-eyes her. "And why would I do that?"

She actually pouts. "Come on, I already know that you like him! What's the harm in telling me more?"

"I risk losing my dignity," he mutters. "It is bad enough to be feeling this way, but the fact that it is Ferdinand's doing is..." He grimaces. "Unfortunate, to say the least."

"Come on," Bernadetta clucks. "There has to be a reason, right? I can't imagine that just anyone could get your attention like that."

Hubert presses his lips into a line. "He is irritating, enough to have somehow wormed his way under my skin. It certainly doesn't help that Marianne is always hanging off his arm. It sickens me."

"What do you like about him?"

"Nothing," he replies sharply, but then he hears a laugh from inside—unmistakably Ferdinand's, though maybe that is only because he has committed the sound to memory—and something honey-warm floods him, heat blossoming in the apples of his cheeks once again.

"Oh man," Bernadetta whispers. "You've got it bad, huh."

He buries his face in his arms. "Indeed," he agrees miserably, his voice muffled by his sleeves.

* * *

Hubert hates Dorothea. 

In the five years since their schooldays ended and the rest of their lives began, it has only rung true and truer still. 

He knows her well, he knows the kind of woman she is. Wiley and charming, with a fairly transparent mask covering up her underlying self-loathing. She isn't hard to read, at least for Hubert. 

Ferdinand, however, has always been confused by her, adamant as he used to be to get her to like him. It seems he has no issue with that now, with the way she smiles at him, and the way he smiles back.

It has been a long five years.

Regrettably, Marianne chose to depart their ranks once the war began. When asked why, Hubert remembers that she only looked over her shoulder, and when he followed her gaze, his own landed on Hilda. She hadn't said anything more, but she shook his hand for the final time and smiled a little, like she still wasn't used to it. 

He hasn't seen her since, not that it is a relief. 

Now Dorothea is in the picture, and it's frustrating that it bothers him so much, _still._

The professor is also in the picture, a confounding and unexpected turn of events. After he disappeared five years ago, after Rhea transformed into a beast and wreaked havoc on the monastery, Hubert presumed he was dead. They all did. 

While his loss was difficult, they trudged onwards without him, but now he is back, looking much the same as he did five years ago, somehow no worse for wear. Though, if his excuse is to be believed—if he was indeed sleeping for all that time—Hubert may need to reevaluate him. 

The professor is not human—maybe he used to be, but he isn't now. Or maybe he never was, and the true nature of what he is has only just started to rear its ugly head.

The war efforts continue, the plans to break through Alliance territory to Derdriu, then to march on Fhirdiad.

And Ferdinand is in love with Dorothea, and something in Hubert burns every time he sees them together, as though the very sight would have fire pouring out of his lungs just as it poured from Rhea's all those years ago.

He can't afford to be distracted. Not now. Not ever. 

Curse Ferdinand von Aegir.

He's sorting through paperwork—letters from lords and dukes confirming their compliance in the war efforts, proposals from generals about changes in position—when a knock sounds on the wall of the counsel room, making him look up.

Bernadetta is in the doorway, a tray laden with pastries and tea balanced on one hand and the professor right behind her, an easy smile on his face. It's still alarming to see his emotions so plainly, even so many years later.

"Hubert," he greets. "I thought you might like to take a break and join us for some tea. I would not want you to overdo it."

He looks back down at the pile of documents on the table in front of him. "I do not have the time to while away drinking tea with you. If you haven't noticed, we are in the middle of a war, professor. Perhaps that should take precedence over your tea parties."

"I have noticed," he replies, his tone significantly cooler. "And I have also noticed the darkness under your eyes. Join me for tea." It isn't a request.

Hubert sighs sharply. "Fine. You win. Let's just get this over with."

Bernadetta glances at the professor, unsure, but he just ushers her further into the room. She looks back at Hubert and offers him a sheepish smile, as if to apologize for the intrusion. He just closes his eyes and shakes his head a little. His frustration is not her fault, nor is it the professor's.

She sets the tray on the table and settles into the seat on his left, and the professor takes the one on his right.

While the professor takes his time preparing the tea, Bernadetta turns to Hubert with knitted brows. It's how she always looks these days; she has never been one for fighting, yet she plays her part regardless. Hubert must admit, he almost admires her for it.

"Are you alright?" she asks quietly, hesitating for only a moment before placing her hand over his. She's grown bolder, as well. It is a welcome change, Hubert finds.

He closes his eyes again, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "Fine," he mutters. "Don't waste your time worrying over me."

"Well, I just... you know," she hedges, widening her eyes at him pointedly.

He looks at her, dropping his hand to the table. "Unfortunately I do know, but it is neither appropriate nor important enough to discuss during wartime, Bernadetta." 

She bites her lip, but the professor interjects before she can reply.

"Keeping secrets, are we?" He doesn't seem very bothered by it, carefully pouring tea into a cup.

"Sorry professor!" Bernadetta is quick to say. "It's just—"

He slides their cups over to them, interrupting smoothly, "Would it have anything to do with Ferdinand?"

Bernadetta closes her mouth so quickly her teeth clack together loud enough for Hubert to hear. He just sighs. 

"Perceptive as ever, professor. Nice to know that your disappearance hasn't dulled your skills in that regard."

His lips thin slightly in discomfort, and he puts his cup down without taking a sip. "I would offer my ear but it seems you still don't trust me. Perhaps it would be better if I left the two of you to have this discussion, hm?"

"I see no reason to have a discussion about it. It seems to me that the both of you know exactly what is going on, so what is the point in talking about it? There is nothing to be done."

Bernadetta frowns. "Hubert..."

"I tire of this. It is not as if Ferdinand will come to the miraculous realization that he is not in love with Dorothea, and it is even more unlikely that he should ever enjoy my company. This is pointless. We have a war to win. If the two of you could focus on that rather than the stagnation of my love life, perhaps it would be over sooner."

In a whirlwind, he collects his paperwork and leaves, his heels clicking on the floor as he makes his escape, his face warm with what feels a lot like embarrassment. Shame.

Curse Ferdinand von Aegir.

* * *

"Hubert!"

He falters in his tracks and nearly trips, momentarily forgetting that he is supposed to be on his way to deliver last minute tactical changes to Lady Edelgard, and his traitorous heart speeds up in his chest.

Terror spikes his blood, terror that Ferdinand will notice, somehow, even though he has never been very perceptive, so to disguise it he quickly turns on his heel and dons his most annoyed expression. "Can't you see I am busy, Ferdinand? The end of this war is finally upon us. Perhaps you have time to run around shouting at people but I have a job to do."

Where Ferdinand would normally scowl at him and return the insult, he just smiles, a radiant, blinding thing, and he laughs a little, and to his horror, Hubert feels his cheeks growing warm. He looks down and away, shuffling through the papers in his hands in an attempt to look busy rather than flustered.

"As charming as ever, I see," he quips.

Hubert's face grows even hotter, but before Ferdinand can continue a loud roar from within the city walls draws their attention away. The ground shakes with the force of it.

"Your Majesty!"

Lady Edelgard turns. "What is it? What's happened?"

"There's smoke coming from every corner of the capital! It seems they've set fire to the city!"

"What?!" she cries. "Damn it, Rhea. There really is no depth you wouldn't sink to. Everyone!" 

Her voice rings across the courtyard, steady and commanding, clear as a bell.

"We must commence our attack at once! Are you ready?" She looks to Hubert.

"Preparations are complete," he supplies, inclining his head. "Just say the word."

She turns back to the army. Already the smoke is rising beyond the walls behind her, fire licking over the roofs. Hubert can almost taste it.

"Then we attack. We'll head straight for the castle and strike down their leader—Rhea, that vile creature called the Immaculate One!"

She continues, building morale before the very end, and Petra chimes in, then Caspar, then Dorothea and Linhardt and Bernadetta and the professor, and then Ferdinand, who tacks on, very quietly at the end of his own battle cry, just loud enough for Hubert to hear:

"Come find me after the war. There is something I would like to discuss with you."

_Curse Ferdinand von Aegir._

Hubert's treacherous heart twists those words into something that has his mind racing, but he doesn't have time to dwell on it now. The final battle is upon them. Rhea—the Immaculate One—awaits them in the heart of Fhirdiad. The end of the war awaits them.

It's silent as the army marches into Fhirdiad, braced for heat and smoke and battle, and they are not disappointed. 

The battle rages alongside the fires, the ground hot beneath their feet and the air burning their lungs as each and every one of them pushes through. Hubert flings spell after spell, leaving bodies to burn in his wake. 

He breathes in and fire coats his lungs. 

A battle cry cut short has them disintegrating.

Everything slows; the rune fades out, purple sparks dancing alongside burning red embers, and Ferdinand's eyes meet his, almost apologetic—a split second before he hits the ground, _hard._ Hubert hears a sickening crack.

Though the smoke distorts his vision, he can see it plainly: Ferdinand, on the ground, flames licking at his hair.

Ferdinand, on the ground, unmoving, a trickle of blood from under his head.

He was right there, fighting alongside him, victory within their grasp, just a few more steps, just a staircase away, and he didn't—he _couldn't—_

Bile rises, hot like fire in his throat. He swallows before it spills over and scorches the ground even more. 

Ferdinand looks like he's sleeping. Peaceful. Beautiful.

The stillness of his chest betrays him, the lack of a pulse in his wrist. Spellwork. Stopped his heart in an instant. Quick. Painless, even.

Painless for him, perhaps.

Hubert's vision grows fuzzy on the edges, and he doesn't recall falling to his knees but he is on them, and though he knows the battle continues to rage around him he can hear nothing but the beating of his own heart, so loud compared to Ferdinand's.

His heart, which used to beat.

His heart, which used to love.

His heart, which will never do anything ever again.

Hubert hates Ferdinand von Aegir.

He kneels there, curled over him in the fire and smoke and confusion of battle and he _curses_ him, with tears in his eyes, to the goddess and back.

For a moment, he catches sight of the professor through the haze, and he looks upon Ferdinand with an apology in his eyes, and a distinct sense of helplessness that is foreign on his face. He cannot turn back the hands of time, none of them can.

Curse Ferdinand von Aegir.

Curse Ferdinand von Aegir for loving too easily.

Curse Ferdinand von Aegir for stealing away Hubert's heart and dying with it.

It takes all of his strength to pull himself away—the war is not over, he knows this, and yet it feels as though they've already lost. As though Ferdinand's death is the end of everything.

Rhea still waits upstairs, in the heart of Fhirdiad. 

This is the future he has been fighting for. Lady Edelgard's future. Fódlan's future.

He'd thought it would be Ferdinand's future, as well.

It isn't, anymore, but Ferdinand fought for it all the same. To give up now would be to dishonor him. So Hubert fights, with everything he has left in him, he fights.

Until the last man falls, he fights, and pushes, and screams and rips and shreds until finally something gives, and the Immaculate One falls with a crash that rattles the city.

And it's over.

They've won.

It should feel rewarding, but Hubert only feels empty. Defeated, despite Rhea's body decorating the steps in front of them, because Ferdinand's decorates the steps behind them.

His legs buckle beneath him, but before he can fall someone grasps his arm and lifts him, and through the sheen of tears in his eyes Bernadetta's face wavers.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers, and without hesitating she folds him into a tight hug.

"It is not your fault," he whispers back, but he cries all the same, silently into her shoulder.

It doesn't feel much like a victory.

**Author's Note:**

> So. How about that weather we're having.
> 
> Little bit of a Hubert character study? Don't know, I just know that something came over me when I was writing this and I literally just couldn't stop, I don't know what happened but for like four days straight I was addicted to writing this fic. Something about the Hubert von Vestra of it all, maybe.
> 
> The title is from Richard Siken's "Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out."
> 
> Hope you liked this! Comments and kudos are nice, thank you <3
> 
> [My Twitter!](https://twitter.com/suratonkachi)


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